Drinks
by H.R Again
Summary: America and England go out for drinks, and England gets drunk...what else would happen? Things are said and maybe some feelings are revealed. -USUK- R.R!
1. Chapter 1

A/N:

*This is a reupload on a new account*

Hello it's HRagain here and I'm here with my second fanfiction! This time it's not a horror fic where they all die … o.O'

It's fluffy…..

Anyways,

**Rating: T for language**

**Characters: England/Arthur, America/Alfred**

**Genre: Romance**

**Warning: Gets fluffy near the end. In my opinion.**

**Summery:**

**England's drunk and America, being the hero, has to take him home. Fluffy, USUK, T for lang.**

* * *

><p>"I think you've had enough to drink England." America said, as he tried to pry the shot glass out of the older nation's hands.<p>

"I think I can bloody fucking tell when I've had enough to drink dammit. Let go of me." England swatted away America's hand and poured himself another shot of who-knows-what. America scowled at his friend with annoyance. England in return rolled his head onto his left shoulder and smiled a very drunken smile at the scowling nation.

"You should drink too," England pushed the shot glass into America's face. America hadn't had much to drink because he knew if he did, no-one would be able to watch over England, who when got drunk enough, could murder them all, or end up in a closet with France. Either way, England would blame America for letting him get that drunk.

America took the shot glass and with a sigh tipped back the second shot that night for the nation.

"You enjoying yourselves now are you? Hon hon hon." America put the shot glass down in front of England before turning to look at the long haired nation.

"Go away you bloody frog." England spat at France, not even bothering to turn around, as he reached the bottle to pour himself yet another shot.

"Fine, I shall leave you two, but with this-"France snatched the bottle from England and started to walk away.

"Now you get your bloody ass back over here, I wasn't done with that!" England snapped at him with a slurred speech. France turned around, so England reached for the bottle in his hands, and proceeded to fall off his chair, and face-first into the wooden floor of the bar.

America and France both just looked down at England's still figure on the floor.

"Angleterre, if you really want another glass, I'm more than happy to oblige, but, if afraid if I give you another, you will start to bleed through your eyes from your alcohol intake level. I haven't seen you drink this much since your pirate days."

England made some uncomprehendable noise from the floor, while moving his leg -probably in some failing attempt at getting up- managing to knock over the stool he was sitting on. It fell to the floor with a loud crash, narrowly missing England by an inch or two. England didn't even flinch.

With a sigh America slid off his stool and picked up England's stool, setting it upright.

"As much fun as it is to watch you drown in your own drool England-"

England turned his head.

"Frog" France smirked and continued.

"I can easily find much more…_entertaining _things to do with a certain nation related to _you_."

He poked his finger into the sleeve of America's bomber jacket with a smirk.

And with that, France turned and went to search for the –nearly- invisible nation he spoke of.

With a growl at the fact France just went off to find his brother for purposes that make America puke at the thought, he looked down at England.

*Sigh*

"Ok England, time to go." He reached down and picked England up, propping him against the bar.

"WHHHYYYYYYYYYY? I'm not drunk yet." With the whine, his head fell down as he started to fall asleep on his feet.

"Oh really? England, what's my name?" America asked, looking skeptically at England.

"Mr. Sexy hamburger." America rolled his eyes before picked up England-who wiggled in protest- so that he was over America's left shoulder. England started to slide off America, so he held England with right hand, it ended up on England's lower back.

America started walking towards the door, looking around as he did. He saw Italy sitting in Germany's lap talking excitedly about who-knows-what while Germany looked the other direction, a blush spread across his face. He saw France whispering to Canada, who was a very deep shade of tomato.

God he didn't want to know what the hell France was going to do to his little brother…..

He reached the door and walked out to England's car. He went to open the door, but stop, realizing he needed the keys. He set England down, propped up against the side of his car.

England stared to slide to the side, heading toward the ground; America grabbed him, pulling him back up and holding England up by holding his shoulders.

"I need the keys England."

England opened one of his eyes at him, squinting.

"What the bloody fuck you want?"

America let out a sigh, rolling his eyes.

"The keys England, I need the keys."

"WHAT BLOODY FUCKING KEYS?" England yelled, looking at him with both his eyes now.

"THE 'BLOODY FUCKING KEYS' FOR THE CAR!" America looked at the ground at let out a heavy sigh, before looking back up at England.

"….Oh, here."

He reached for his pants-pocket and pulled out a single key and gave it to America.

America unlocked the car, and opened the passenger door. He slid England into the seat and closed the door. America walked around the front of England's car, and opened the driver's door. He slid in and started the car.

It was about a 2 hour drive, because the bar was in the opposite direction of England's house from the World Meeting Place.

It took about 5 minutes for the drunken England to fall asleep, so America drove in almost-silence, the only noise was England soft breathing, and the occasional random sentence or word, said just like a pirate, from England.

He giggled a little and his face went red at one thing England said.

He was close to England's home when it started to rain. At first it was nice and a pleasant rain, but quickly turned into a downpour.

America got onto a straight road and glanced over at England, who had fallen asleep with his head against the window, angled slightly toward America, he wondered if the nation had fallen asleep ~watching~ him.

He smiled a bit at the thought.

For almost as long as the nation could remember he'd been in love with England, that was the whole reason for the America Revolution. Well, a big part of it at least.

If he hadn't declared his independence, he would always be seen as a younger brother to England, prohibiting anything from possibly happening between them.

He heavily sighed at the memories, a little louder than he thought, because England stirred, opening his eyes and looking out the windshield.

"Hey Iggy, your awake."

England let out a grunt, and continued looking out at the raining sky.

"We are almost home."

England looked at him.

"Where am i?"

America looked at England,

"In your car."

"Why are you driving MY car then?"

America glared at England, then looked out at the road again

"Because your drunk as fuck."

England glared at America who continued talking.

"And dude, you were talking like a pirate in your sleep. You said something….."

England eyebrows twitched.

"And what's that?"

America smirked and looked over at England.

"_Stop it France, you're hurting me_."

England's face went white, his shoulders spiking up in horror, before his face grew the darkest shade of red America had ever seen on a face.

Needless to say, America burst out laughing.

"I'M KIDDING, I'm kidding, and you didn't say that." England punched him in the arm and glared, his embarrassment dying down a little.

"Really, you only said random words….it's cool."

England continued to glare out the windshield, still red, but not as much as before.

After a minute or two of silence America pulled into England's driveway. He pulled the keys out, handing them to England.

He got out, and was quickly drenched in the freezing cold rain. With a shiver, he closed the driver's door and walked around to England's side. He pulled open the door and gave his hand to England.

The Brit glared at him and swatted away his hand.

He grabbed the frame of the his car and pulled himself up, but didn't stay like that for long. He swayed back and forth, his eyes jumping around, trying to focus before his legs gave way. America grabbed him, pulling him back up.

"Let go of me-!"

England was cut off by America lifting England up and onto his freezing shoulder and shut the car door with his foot.

"Let me GO America! I'm not confortable! I'm cold! It's raining, and I'm freezing!" England whined and wiggled, trying to squirm off America's shoulder.

He started walking to England's front door trying not to let the squirming England slide off his shoulder.

"ENGLAND! _Stop_. It's hard enough carrying you and you can't exactly walk, so I'm not going to put you down. And I can't do a damn thing about the rain so you'll just have to shut up about it!"

A minute of silence broke between the drunken nation and the sober one.

"You know what the rain reminds me of? Every time I see it?"

America turned his head slightly and let out an "Hm?"

"That night….." America scrunched his eyebrows together, trying to figure out what England might he talking about.

America froze in his tracks.

_**That**_ night.

The thought that night sent a hurricane of memories and feelings that he was feeling during that time. The first memory he saw was a mix of England rushing toward him, then in turned into England on the ground his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking. The overwhelming feeling of America wanting to run over and hold his ex-brother. The teardrops and rain mixing together and falling off of England's face.

But his memories and feeling and thoughts were interrupted by England.

"Alfred. Why do you only think of yourself? You bloody fucking left my arse. Do you know how much alcohol I drank to get over that fact that I had failed? Ever think about how much pain I was in? No, of course not. No damnit, you only ever think about yourself. You'll never understand the pain…." His voice drifted off, but America hardly noticed.

He reached England's front door and walked directly up to England's room. He put England down at the foot of England's bed, so he was standing, but held England's shoulders, so he wouldn't fall.

Still holding England up with one hand he started to strip England of his soaked clothes, just like England used to do to him when he was a colony and they got stuck out in the rain.

He took off England's shirt, leaving his chest exposed to the cold air, Earing a slight shiver.

He started to take of England's pants, which made England glare down at America, but he didn't stop him.

He didn't take off England's boxers -which by the way were a Unions Jack print- because they weren't wet.

And for obvious other reasons.

He led England down to a sitting position on his bed and went over the England's dresser and looked for a pair of pj's for him. He found a pair of green shorts, and a green shirt. He walked back over and brought England back up to his feet; and he slipped on the button up nightshirt and helped England step into the shorts. England was so out of it he didn't complain about America striping and dressing him, who normally would have screamed bloody murder and tried to kill America in embarrassment.

America, who was still holding England up with one hand, shrugged off his bomber jacket, letting it fall to the floor. He slipped of his shirt with some difficulty, and kept his undershirt on. He paused for a second, debating if he wanted to take off his pants, especially if England was with him….He finally decided to and stepped out of them because England was so out of it he probably didn't care or would remember it in the morning. He sat England down once more and went looking through his dresser for pants that might fit him. He found a pair of his clothes in one of drawers and guessed that one of the times he had slept at England's house, because of a meeting, he forgot a change of clothes. He slipped on the shorts and closed the drawer, walking back over to England. He gathered up the wet clothes and threw them into the sink of England's bedroom's bathroom, then walked back over to England once again.

He got England back onto his feet and held onto his shoulder once again.

"Arthur,"

England looked up at America at the sound of his human name.

"I do care about more than myself; you of all people should know this." Alfred's voice cracked at when he said _you_. He let go of England who started falling backwards onto his bed, but in his drunken haze he didn't realize he was going to land onto his bed, Even If he had _sat_ on it multiple times within the past 10 minutes.

As he stumbled backwards and grabbed onto America's shirt with both of his hands, pulling him down on top of England.

England had closed his eyes after he'd grabbed America, like him closing his eyes would help the impact with the floor.

But instead he was met with his bed, his feet dangled off the foot of the bed, and his hands still gripped onto America's shirt, who was now straddling him, his hands on either side of the Brit, just above England's shoulders.

It took a second for England to realize what exactly happened.

"Wh-? G-get off of me you git!" England and America both grew red and stared at each other with a look of surprise and embarrassment. England shoved America off him, who landed with an _Oof_ next to him on his back.

"_You_ pulled _me_ down England!" America said to England as he stared at the ceiling.

"Shut the up fuck." England growled, pushing himself further into the pillow, which was eating his head.

Alfred laughed and rolled over onto his side and looked at England, his chin in his hand.

"Hey _Iggy_, dontcha mean Shut the fuck up?" He teased, with a wide smirk on his face.

England let out a growl.

"Yes that's what I bloody meant. And that's not my name. Don't call me that."

America's smirk grew wider.

"Iggy. Iggy Iggy Iggy Iggy Iggy IGGY IGGY IGGY IG-"

"FUCKING SHUT UP ALFRED."

America stopped and froze at his human name.

"Why did you call me Alfred?"

"Because I knew that it would shut you up. And it did, didn't It?"

"But nobody calls me Alfred….that my-"

"Human name. I know. I raised you didn't I? I should know what your _name_ is."

"But you haven't called me that in….years."

"Why are you making such a big deal of this Alfred?"

"Because you haven't called me that since…before my independence." This earned a wince from England.

"Alfred. It's not a big deal, me calling you by your human name, it IS your name."

"I know….But…you've always called me America. And you stopped calling me Alfred after the Independence."

This earned another wince from England.

"And it seemed like you only called me by my human name when we were close…."

"America. Alfred. Git. You're rambling."

America fell silent, as did England, after raising a caterpillar-like eyebrow at this before closing his eyes.

It was quiet for a while. The only noise was England's soft breathing, it wasn't slow, just soft and quiet.

After a while America looked over at England.

"Hey dude. Art-_England_ Are you awake?"

Silence, then

"Yes."

An awkward silence fell upon them before America spoke again.

"Um…England…."

"You're allowed to call me Arthur you know. It's not like you're not allowed too. It_ is_ my name."

America nodded, even though England didn't see because he was still staring at the ceiling.

"_Arthur_, About what you said earlier."

"…What part?"

"About me leaving you…..what did you mean 'I had failed'? Failed what?"

Another moment of silence.

"Myself. You. I raised you for god's sakes, and you leaving me felt like…I had failed at be a good guardian over you. If you wanted to leave and become independent that bloody badly."

"That's not even close to why I had left."

"Yes it is! Don't lie to me Alfred, I'm not stupid."

"Well if you think that's why I left then you're fucking retarded!" America was yelling now, and sitting up. He looked to his side and down at England, who looked at up him as well.

"Alfred-"

"I'm not done!" America yelled again. America –before England knew what was happening- rolled over and pinned England's hands down into the sheets with his hands, his legs on either side of a very stunned England. He glared down into England's surprise emerald eyes.

After a moment England realized what the hell had just happened and proceeded to go red again. His mouth hung open, his eyebrows nit together in a partly-angry, partly-confused way and his eyes filled with surprise, embarrassment and a little anger. He glared up at America, who glared right back down at him.

"If you think I left because you had failed me or yourself then you _are_ stupid. If _anyone_ failed _anyone _Arthur. It was _me_._ I_ failed _you_ England." America himself looked like he _could_ cry.

"How so?" England's face was still burning a very interesting shade of red.

It was kinda fun to look at England/Arthur. His face was as red as one of Romano's tomatoes, and his eyes showed embarrassment and anger. There was something else too. At first it had been surprise, now it was something else. It all distracted him from the fact he was on the verge of tears.

"Because I put you through that. You know, I didn't know I meant that much to you England. If you made that big of a deal of me becoming independent."

"It was a big deal you git!" England's tone was harsh, but he sighed and softened his tone and voice.

"You were mine for so long….and…you left. I wasn't….prepared…..for it."

Another moment of silence.

"Do you know why I left? The real reason?" England shook his head gently, dropping his gaze from America for a second, before looking back up at him.

"Do you _want_ to know the real reason?" England looked at him for a second, before finally nodding gently. This time his gaze didn't drop from America's, America was the one to break it. He closed his eyes and sighed.

America talked in a very quiet voice, but it wasn't like that was a problem.

There wasn't any other noise in the room besides his and America's breathing.

"Because If I hadn't gotten my independence…you would have always have seen me as your colony. Your brother. My guardian. But, because I did leave. It gave me the chance….that you might see me more as someone…you could….well you know like…" His voice trailed off.

"But Alfred I do like yo-"

"Not that type of like Arthur." England's face flushed a even deeper shade of red, with America growing some red as well.

And _God_.

For someone who was normally really good at reading the atmosphere, why was he being _this dense?_

Was he just avoiding the subject? Or was he really that dense?

America chose the latter, that he was just avoiding the subject.

"S-so, your saying that you left because….you…"

"That I was in love with you? That I actually wanted a shot at being with you?" America just let the word-vomit go. He just said what needed to be said.

The truth.

The fact was America DID love England, and he was leading that way….and apparently he was getting annoyed at the fact one of them hadn't said it already.

"Yeah…" England's voice was small, almost scared, his eyes had grown big with surprise when America had finally said it, and he'd looked away a second later, unable to hold his gaze anymore.

Even if he hadn't looked away, America dropped the gaze as well. Growing pink and red at his own words. The feeling of relief at finally saying the words he'd always known were true. The words that needed to be said.

"I knew you'd never leave me, you loved me too much. But, not…the kind of love I wanted. God…I'm so selfish." America's voice was small but strong. Truthful, maybe be a word to describe it. But the last three words were spoken in an even quieter voice. With a more scolding tone.

England moved his head, tilting it at a slightly weird angle, so he could look at America, and bring his gaze back to him.

"Nice to know were on the same page."

"What do you mean?"

"I was just thinking….that, Alfred. What if I didn't love you back? What if I might not feel the same way you do to me?"

America's eyes grew wide and he slowly climbed off of England. He sat next to him, his legs crossed and him looking down. His golden hair falling in front of his eyes. Covering them.

"No. I didn't think about that till now."

"And what happens if I don't return your feelings?" England sat up and looked over at America. The bottom of his feet were put together, but he didn't cross them.

America's shoulders spiked up. The red in England's face was disappearing, and the redness in America's was growing. But not out of embarrassment or surprise but out of shame more like.

"I don't know England. I wouldn't know what to do with myself." He paused as he flipped his hair out of his eyes and face, looking up at England's eyes.

"I probably wouldn't be able to be around you anymore, or at least not outside meetings. It would hurt too much."

England smiled before he reached over and pulled America into his lap, just like he would do when America was still just a colony. He put his face into America's golden hair –America was sitting sideways in England's lap- and just sat there. He sat there and held America, with his forehead against the side of America's for a while before he finally broke the silence."

"And what if I do?"

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><p>This is the end of the story<p>

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><p>OMG.<p>

PAGE BREAK OF DOOM-LOOK UPON IT WITH AMAZMENT-FOR YOU ARE A MERE MORTAL

Authors note of freaking doom.

(Yeah. You DID read that right.)

OK IT'S ABOUT FREAKING TIME.

I wrote this down in my little blue notebook of fanfiction idea and stories (OF DOOM) about the first week of school.

Now we're into the 6th or 7th week of school. (It's Friday :D)

Anyways. So I started to type it when it was about the 3rd week of school, I didn't type it the second BECAUSE THE NUMBER 2 IS EVIL.

No because I was actually starting ANTOHER fanfiction for my OTP. FRANADA!

:D

Well. I'm on the fence. Between USUK and FRANADA being my OTP.

Whatever.

And it's were French-colony Mathieu has a nightmare and wakes up screaming.

Oh dear god. I read that and the first think I thought was a nightmare about something France did to him.

T.o

It's not. It's about SOMEONE taking him.

And killing France. (Hint hint? Nudge nudge? Shove off a cliff shove off a cliff?)

...Poor Canada. D:

Dear god this is getting long.

Ok BACK TO MY FREAKING STORY.

...

So I've been procrastinating typing this and writing my other story and I've been trying to get a name for this story and BLAH BLAH BLAH.

This story was fun to write, much much different than my other fic, IF I CANT HAVE YOU, because:

-France isn't a phyco.

-France isn't out of character and trying to kill EVERYONE IN THE MOTHER F'ING STORY. WITH KNIFES. AND CARVING.

(This doesn't make any sense if you haven't read it yet and I do apologize for the confusion my A/N prescribes. I rant a lot on here. The A/N on If I Can't Have You is almost as long as the real story...Not really but that's what my sister says.)

-ITS FUFFY AND NOT A HORROR FIC!

- It doesn't feel like i'm summoning the devil when i wrote it

- nothing I write here will be awesome so it is blank.

End of differences between my two stories

**...**

Where I don't have any idea where this authors note is going. This isn't even a A/N anymore. It's a ramble. T.T

_(This Is getting really long.)_

I wonder how I went from an M rating horror fic for USUK. Into a fluffy, drunk-England USUK fic rating T for language.

I really do wonder.

_(Like really __**really**__ long.)_

UM…

This idea came up in my brain of mine that I like so very much when I was playing with my cat, staring out the window (Cool story Rose.. can you shut up now?)

ALSO:

I AM going to write a second chapter, but it WILL NOT be smut.

NO SMUTSIES.

It will be when England wakes up in the morning.

Hehe I'm going to have fun with this one.

I'm also (once this is posted) going to start typing my 2 chapter, 2 shot fic for France and Young!Canada.

AND THERE SHALL BE PIRATE ENGLAND IN THERE AS WELL! :D

I hope to post soon but I don't know if I will…so don't hold me to posting soon with that Franada fic. I also have another idea for a 9/11 fic…..yeah. That one is REALLY REALLY late. I hope to have both fics, all chapters on this and the Franada fic done by Christmas.

Hopefully.

I'm going to leave now because I've wasted and am wasting a very very very long amount of your time that could be spent reading my other fanfic (SHAMELESS SELF PROMOTION FTW) or any other USUK/FRANADA FANFICS OF AWESOMESAUCE-NESS.

GOODBYE!


	2. Chapter 2

My emerald eyes blinked slowly open, taking in the soft light that filtered the room through the beige curtains to my right. With a groan I closed them again and slowly tried to shift onto my right shoulder, so my back would be to the curtain and I could start trying to ignore my raging headache and general sense of a hangover hanging in every nerve and muscle in my body; something I wasn't all too unfamiliar with.  
>I almost got onto my back before something clicked in my hazy brain that there was a arm slung around my waist, holding me almost possessively, and another underneath me. Slowly I looked up, starting with the intertwined hands on my right hip bone, following the top arm's sun-kissed skin all the way up to a sleeping face a couple inches from my own.<p>

My mouth opened slightly as I took in the slightly blurry face, internally struggling to get my brain to focus. After a moment the almost childlike face came into an all-too-perfect focus and I felt my pulse quicken; whether in fear, confusing or happiness or a mix of the three, I wasn't all too sure.  
>I just laid there and stared at him. His face was calm and untensed, making it seem younger and more childish that it normally was, that fact his glasses were missing from the Americans face. His mouth was slightly open, like mine, breathing softly and slowly.<br>He's finally calm, and it only took him to be asleep for me to see him calm.

"A-Alfred..." My whisper only got his eyebrows to twitch slightly as he shifted, pulling me closer to him and burying his face into my shoulder as a response.  
>"Alfred." I said a little louder, no stutter that time. He breathed in sharply through his nose as he stirred, his head rising from my shoulder.<br>Eyes-half lidded and a small smile pulling at his lips as he looked at me and spoke in a sleepy voice.  
>"Hi." My heart-rate was skyrocketing as I struggled with my words.<br>"Alfred...W-what..?" He cut me off with pulling me closer yet, starting to turn me on my original side, and snuggling back into the back of my neck.  
>"Arthuuuur. Go back to sleeeeeeep. I'm too comfortable to be awaaaake."<p>

Ignoring his whines I pushed away from him, kicking at the sheets and crying out something incomprehensible that sounded like 'No!'.  
>With a shout I fell over the edge of the bed, taking the black duvet with me.<br>Alfred sat up with a jolt, a hand where I was, eyes wide open on his worried face now looking down at me, a bit unfocused, on the floor.  
>"Artie! You okay?"<br>I blinked up at him, my eyes wide and my ass hurting from the floor.  
>"Am. I. Ok?" Am I OK? I wake up with you spooning me in my bed! I have no idea how the hell you got there or why you're in my bed or what the hell happened or-"<br>"Arthur!" He barked at me, getting as inch closer to the edge.

"Calm the hell down, I'll explain okay?" I nodded slowly, standing with handfuls clutching the duvet, making it tent off the ground. I wavered slightly as my headache was competing to pound louder than my heart. I slowly crawled onto the opposite side and the foot of the bed, my eyes staring straight at Alfred as I sank into the bright mint colored sheet. I pulled the duvet all the way off the ground and back onto the bed, trying minimally to spread it out over the bed lopsided.  
>"Start. Explaining."<br>Alfred cleared his throat and sat up completely, crossing his legs like an Indian and sitting so he was sitting directly in front of me, closer than before.  
>He let out a huff and pushed his bangs back, continuing to run his head through his hair and leaving it there as he looked at me with a 'really?' look.<br>"You don't remember last night?" I shook my head slowly in reply, my eyebrows slowly creasing together as bit of memory started to form in my head.  
>"Just...fuzzy memories...I-I can't remember anything clearly." He nodded slowly, eyes drifting to the hardwood floor.<br>"Well, let's start from the beginning." His eyes jumping back to mine as I nodded, closing my eyes as I was plunged into the memory world he started to describe.  
>"We were Castiel bar, nothing really special there."<p>

The blackness of my eyelids exploded into a wispy coloured shapes, not that much unlike when seeing memories in the Harry Potter movies. The bar came to life, human figures taking place in seats or standing next to me, all blacked out and unfocusable to my eyes.  
>"We were sitting in our normal seats, you were lecturing about how texting language is the stupidest thing you've ever heard of and that it needs to just disappear from the face of the earth."<p>

Alfred and myself exploded in a colourful ball of slowish moving smoke, my hand pinching my nose as I continued the memories' conversation. I tried to listen to my past self and found myself unable to, I couldn't understand what I was talking about, only that I was talking and Alfred was laughing and shaking his head no, undoubtedly countering pathetically that I was wrong, he was right about the subject.

"France came up and ordered some scotch for all of us, which of course you questioned why the frog wasn't getting his 'revolting grape water'. He replied that he had some, and that my brother was keeping it safe; he was simply there to start making you more pleasant to be around." The past-two of us both looked up when Francis walked up, our expression both turning into suspicious one when he ordered the drinks, before finally turning slightly horrified and disgusted as he talked about Alfred's brother; Alfred's because of the mention of the relationship and mine because I could see the Frenchman's face. Period.  
>"We got our drinks and he left, nothing really happened...until you ordered the bottle of rum or whatever it was...and the third and fourth...I took your glass and bottle away by the fifth."<p>

I shifted in the bed, which shifted made me shift my weight onto the other foot from where I was standing in the memory, that where the bartender would normally be in the actual world, bringing my feet in front of me and crossing them; mirroring Alfred without opening my eyes.  
>"What about you?" I asked.<p>

"I didn't drink much. I knew I'd end up taking your drunken-butt home."  
>I was silent as I waited for him to continue, my cheeks slightly colouring undoubtedly.<br>Alfred cleared his throat and began talking again.  
>"I literally had to pick you up because you couldn't stand, you were that drunk." My memories showed me falling off my stood and onto my ass, and Alfred picking me up as I protested.<p>

"Ok...go on Alfred. Get to the part explaining this." I gestured to the bed frantically but refused to open my eyes, only shutting them tighter.  
>"Chill yourself; I'm getting there." I felt his weight shifted off the bed but I refused to open my eyes still, for a reason even I didn't really understand.<br>"Well I got you into my car and I drove us to your home; it was closer. You feel asleep but nothing really happened there. When we got to your house I had to carry you in because you couldn't even stand."  
>"It was raining..." I interrupted him, listening to how his voice changed project as he walked around the room during his reply.<br>"Yes it was...It..It triggered a memory. Do you..?"

I thought hard, the memory of Alfred having me over his shoulder slowing dramatically as I thought, trying to place words with the moving mouths.  
>"Revolutionary War...I said something that made you rush inside and up here; you wanted to get away as quickly as possible." I watched in mind-relay as Alfred all-but-ran into the house and upstairs.<br>"...I put you down and changed you, there wasn't a chance in hell I was going to leave you dripping in water." I watched him, a blurry him but him nonetheless, as he stripped and changed me.

"I..we...You feel back onto the bed and kinda grabbed and dragged me down in reaction...And..."  
>I opened my eyes as Alfred sat back down in front of me, legs off the bed, eyes looking into mine.<br>"And you confessed." His eyes grew in surprise as panic and fear flooded me, his lips parting slightly before splitting into a smile, eyes closed and his head tilted ever-so-slightly as he spoke.  
>"Well I should have guessed you'd remember that."<br>"Out." His eyes shot open and he stared at me.  
>"What-"<br>"Alfred, Please. Leave." I watched as he swallowed hard, but I couldn't watch as he stood and left, flinching when he shut the door. He didn't shut it angrily and with a slam and a bang, but he shut it slowly and softly, like shutting the door of a child's at night.  
>I broke down then, my feelings that had been spitting at my face as I slowly remembered the events of the night previous now burst from where they were being held back; a big tangled mess that knocked me over and pinned me down. Leaving me fearful when I was able to crawl out from under them to even attempt to pick and pull the emotions apart.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3}

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><p>He stepped into the meeting room, his eyes locking onto the far wall as he walked to his seat, ignoring the greetings from the other countries. He was almost to his seat when France walked up behind him, throwing his arm around Arthur's shoulders, saying something to the Englishman that he didn't comprehend; his mind focused on getting to his chair and trying to tune everything out until the meeting was over and he could go home. Arthur slowly turned and looked at France, stopping in his tracks before asking calmly to be let go of, or at least he thought so, his words seemingly never reaching his own ears. He watched with his locked-eyes as Francis' smile dropped and his arm slid off, a glint of worry and something else present in the blue eyes of the french nation. England, with or without a thank you he didn't know, continued to walk to his seat. Once there he stared at the wall across from him. After a few minutes the nation appointed to sit across from him. His eyes slightly widening when he saw it was Alfred.<p>

The American nation looked what must be a mirror of himself; a complete mess. His bomber jacket was slightly disheveled, tie askew and hair ruffled to the point Arthur could barely distinguish Nantucket from the rest of his hair. His glasses were halfway down his nose and his eyes which were locked with the English nation's were almost completely deprived of their normal luster and shine. His mouth a frown unlike his normal, seemingly ever-bearing, smile.

The eye-locked two nations did no notion to move or speak to one another, just staring at each other with almost blank expressions, the only exception being they both displayed internal pain with their overall appearance.

Germany came up to America's seat and said something to him, having to raise his voice for Alfred to even turn his head and blankly stare at the nation. Germany said something almost angrily and Alfred said a single word, making Germany raise his voice again as Alfred snapped at him, the two continuing to argue as France, seated next to him, finally all-but screamed into his ear.

"_ARTHUR."_

The nation in question turned slowly, eyes lingering on the arguing nations across from him as long as possible before looking up at Francis.

"What happened after you left drunk with Alfred?" Arthur scoffed, folding his arms and slumping in his chair as he looked back at the opposite now-empty chair, not bothering to look around to find either of the two nations who had occupied the immediate area around it not but 30 seconds before.

"What? It's a simp-"

"I confessed."

I could see out of my peripheral vision that he froze, tensing up at my words. I let out a sigh and sunk back further into my seat, my lips pouting out slightly.

"I wasn't supposed to be like this. I wasn't ever supposed to confess. Ever. I was going to keep it all to myself. Because I knew if I did that something bad would happen and look what's happening now. This is because of my drinking problem I really need to quit don't I? Damnit why can't I learn to stop drinking more than what's lethal to humans I mean come no-"

"How did he react Arthur." I swallowed thickly and turned to him, a irritated frown adoring my face at equally because of being interrupted and because of the question itself.

"I can't remember. Nothing. It's just not there. I can't remember what he said that got me to say what I did in the first place."

He frowned, eyes darting to something behind me, making him respond quickly.

"How did you wake up?" I let out a sigh and looked back at Alfred's empty chair.

"Curled up with him."

"Well it doesn't sound like it went bad..."

"The point is that I didn't tell him, no, the alcohol did that for me."

Francis' hushed and I could feel him glaring at the side of my head, without bothering to turn to look I spoke.

"What?"

"You're an idiot." I whipped my head around and stared at him.

"What?" He laughed a you've-got-to-be-kidding-me laugh and shook his head, clenching his jaw to the side for a second before looking back to me.

"He's so in love with you and you both finally get over yourselves -with the help of alcohol or not what you two said was true-"

"I never said he confessed Francis, he didn't for-"

"All you can _remember_. Come on Arthur, if there is one thing that could get you to crack and spill the beans it's if he confessed before you; and _he_ wasn't drunk you know. "

I swallowed again, my eyes darting back and forth at point on the table as I thought about it; it's true. If there is one thing that could get me to confess it would be his confession...

My thoughts were interrupted by Germany calling the meeting to the pathetic excuse we call a 'order'.

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><p>I stared at him throughout the meeting, neither of us standing up to talk, both using the excuse that we had nothing new to report. He never looked over at me, no matter how intensely and long as I stared, not even a glance.<p>

I figured out during the length of the meeting that Germany and Al had been arguing because Alfred was supposed to run the meeting but said he wouldn't. I would have rathered he had; when it came to be my turn he would have had to talk to me, even if it wasn't the topic that needed to be talked about.

I sub-consciously noticed that the meeting was coming to a close as my thoughts were plagued of how exactly I was going to ask Alfred if he confessed to me in return.

A few minutes after noticing, the meeting did close and Alfred was quick to get up and hurry out, but I was just as quick.

I rushed to beat him to the door but wasn't quick enough, he slipped out into the hallway as I called out to him.

"Alfred! Al slow down I just need to talk to yo-" I ran into him as I rounded the hallways corner, making myself bounce back and stumble onto my arse.

"What? What could you possibly want from me after throwing me out?"

I blinked up at him, mouth open slightly as he glared down with icy blue eyes.

"Alfred, I just need to know if you confe-"

"Oh, so you _care_ now?"

"Alfred ple-"

"Arthur, _you threw me out_."

"Alfred I just need to you-"

"I don't understand. Everything was perfect, exactly the way I could have wished for it to come out and you ruined it ny freaking out when I was trying to explain. Artie I'm not mad, I'm just really confused. I thought that after you confessed that-that," He left out a huff as I got to my feet.

"That we could finally be together. I just don't understand why you reacted the way you reac-Hmmpf!"

I grabbed onto his jacket and pulled him down to my level and crashed our lips together, but not too hard as to hurt either of us.

He tensed up, his arms out and his hands frozen as they hovered to the sides of my upper arms. As I started to pull away he moves his lips against mine, his arms wrapping around me under my arms. I slid my hands up the front of his jacket and clasped them together behind his neck pulling him down further, tilting my head to the right and up while I rose o my tip-toes and pressing us closer together.

It probably wouldn't have stopped for a while if France hadn't loudly cleared his throat to the left of us. We jumped apart and looked at him, wiping off the wetness on our lips with our sleeves.

"Well. Nice to see you worked things out you two, and although it's a lovely/ show, I must kinda request for you two to move somewhere more private."

I blinked at him with a slightly blank expression, the only emotion showing was a mix or boredom and annoyance.

"Fuck off." I said before pushing him to the floor and grabbing Alfred for another kiss.

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><p>End<p>

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><p>AN Time.

Muahahaha.

This fic has been in the need to be written since last year.

._.

So It's nice to FINALLLLLLLLLLY be posting the final chapter. (Or is it?)

No it probably is...

Unless I get a rapid demand for a sequel/epilogue...

Anyways. Think was fun to write, and I'm sorry for not DOING anything with it in FOREVER, but it's all good now. :D

Uh. See you in the next one guys!


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